


Wedding #11

by petrodobreva



Series: Retail David AU [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Class dynamics in relationships, David and Patrick in formalwear, Early Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Inviting your partner to a high-stakes family event way too early into the relationship, Lots of Brewer Cousins, M/M, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrodobreva/pseuds/petrodobreva
Summary: David has only been dating Patrick for three weeks when Patrick invites him to the wedding. The wedding wedding. The eleventh Brewer cousin wedding. The wedding that Patrick was supposed to attend as a married man...married to a woman. He hasn't even met Patrick's parents yet.Sequel to "Customer Service."
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Retail David AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923736
Comments: 103
Kudos: 305





	Wedding #11

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, beloved reader <3\. This story is a sequel to my meet-cute AU story Customer Service. I think you probably need to read that one to understand this one.

“Holy shit.” Patrick gasps. “David.” His voice is low and hoarse—the husky sound of a man undone. He’s sweaty and fragrant, breathing into the hollow between David’s shoulder and throat.

David lets out a low groan. He’s thoroughly fucked out, the edges of his senses are fuzzy, and the weight of Patrick’s solid, heavy frame on top of him makes his heart ache.

“Baby,” Patrick breathes.

David responds with just a “Mmm?” keeping his eyes closed. The sunlight in the room makes the back of his eyelids pink and orange. He could fall asleep right here, right now.

“David that was amazing. That was incredible. _You’re_ incredible.”

David lets himself grin wide as another wave of endorphins spreads through his body. He still doesn’t open his eyes, but he chuckles. The sunlight coming through the window warms him.

Patrick laughs too, and David feels the vibrations all over his torso. “You look like a cat,” he says, “basking in the sun like that.”

David blinks his eyes open then. When he looks down, Patrick’s chin is digging into his sternum, and his big brown eyes are wide and innocent-looking. “I’m also basking in the orgasm,” he says frankly, just to see the blush rise on Patrick’s face.

Patrick chuckles again and then kisses David’s sternum a few times. He punctuates each kiss with a loud, “Muah!” because each moment between them is either unbearably sincere or boldly sarcastic. The interplay between the two makes David dizzy. He doesn’t think another person has ever gotten under his skin like Patrick has. He’s never been so focused with a partner before, nor so distracted when apart. It’s only been three weeks since their first date, but David is already more invested in this thing he has with Patrick than he has ever been with anyone else.

Today is a special day because it’s David’s day off. And instead of spending it working on his social media, or Stevie’s, or running errands with his mom, or eating Panda Express and watching Netflix, he’s at Patrick’s, because it’s also Patrick’s day off. They were _supposed_ to be having Sunday brunch at Jackson’s in the town center, but instead, they crashed into bed only moments after David arrived and Patrick fucked him for the first time. Patrick’s first time.

“Uuuuughh,” Patrick moans. He rolls away and David misses the heat of Patrick immediately. He is also annoyed because Patrick didn’t dismount carefully enough and now they will have to add another ninety minutes to their schedule to wash the sheets. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Patrick wipes his stomach perfunctorily with a couple of tissues, then hands the box to David who does the same.

At least they’re at Patrick’s condo, where there’s an in-unit washer-dryer. David could do laundry naked if he wanted to, and isn’t that the dream?

David rolls over onto his side and props himself up on his elbow to get a better look at Patrick. He’s still catching his breath. David loves Patrick’s body. He’s got firm, muscular arms and shoulders, and thick thighs that clench beautifully around him. His belly is soft, with a meridian of light brown wisps of hair. David leans over to nuzzle his face into it and enjoys the reverberations of Patrick’s laughter.

He’s so fucking beautiful. He can’t believe he missed it when they first met. David’s first impression was almost no impression at all—just an inoffensive white guy with no eyebrows looking out-of-place in a high-end department store. But now, David knows how beautiful Patrick is, and it seems so obvious. He obsesses over his peachy, even skin, fixates on the number 3 made by the hairline at his temples, and goes weak in the knees whenever he’s hit with Patrick’s sparkling smile. They’ve taken a couple of selfies together, and David can’t stand how good they look, how well they fit.

Patrick’s hand falls heavy on David’s head, and cards through his hair, tugging a couple of times. David hisses in approval. Then, his stomach betrays him with a growl.

“Mmm, hungry?” Patrick murmurs.

David chuckles and kisses Patrick’s warm skin again. “Well, our brunch did get sidetracked.”

Patrick looks at his wrist, miming a watch-check, and says, “We’ll have a late brunch. That’s a thing.”

David rolls his eyes. “I think that’s just called lunch.”

Patrick launches into a seated position, and then out of bed. David takes the opportunity to lean over and land a light smack on his ass, letting out a grunt of approval.

Since Patrick gets out of bed first, he showers first, leaving David to let his bones grow heavy into the mattress. Then, his stomach growls again. “All right, all right,” he says to himself, “I’m up.”

He strips the sheets off the bed, including the pillowcases for good measure, and starts them in the washer. It takes him an extra five minutes to figure out the best cycle since Patrick’s unit has about ten more options than the one in David’s building.

David looks around. He loves Patrick’s condo. It’s a one-bedroom in downtown Toronto, and it’s so new and clean. It makes David feel new and clean. It’s much better than his place with its non-functional dishwasher and Stevie’s crap everywhere. Patrick’s place has new carpets that get cleaned on a regular basis, so David can comfortably walk around barefoot.

He hears the water shut off, and Patrick emerges from the bathroom, naked and smelling like soap, running a towel over his hair. David winces, trying to remind himself that Patrick’s hair will survive.

After David a couple of minutes standing under the hot spray of Patrick’s excellent showerhead, he sees Patrick pad into the bathroom, fully dressed.

“Can I help you?” David says.

Patrick hums. “Just came in for a kiss.”

David smiles and slides the shower door open, letting in a puff of cool air, Patrick’s face following. David gives him what he wants—a deep, wet, sloppy kiss. “Muah!” David says.

* * *

David usually gets every other Sunday off, and this is the second of those Sundays that David has gotten to spend with Patrick, and therefore the second time he has requested that Patrick take him to Jackson’s. Their pancakes are the size of a dinner plate, and David gets one chocolate chip and one blueberry. Plus, two scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and peameal bacon. He thinks he might also get a Nutella-strawberry-banana milkshake because Jackson’s is amazing and lets you combine as many milkshake flavors as you want. He looks at the milkshake menu again and decides against it.

“Are you gonna get a milkshake?” Patrick asks.

“Oh, no,” David says. “I thought maybe, but eight bucks is ridiculous.”

“Get the milkshake, David,” Patrick says, “I’m buying.”

For every date they have gone on so far, Patrick has tried to pay. After the first night of drinks, David hasn’t let him—it goes against pretty much every rule he has for himself. Alexis thinks he’s too uptight about things like that, but he always hears his dad’s voice in his head saying the word “handouts.”

David shakes his head; he can’t keep the flush from rising to his face. “Hell no.”

He can tell that Patrick wants to protest, but after their argument at the ticket counter when they went to go see _Crazy Rich Asians_ , David knows that he’ll keep his mouth shut.

David takes a big bite of fluffy, warm, syrupy pancake and falls back into his chair with a moan. “Fuck,” he says. “This is delicious.”

Patrick smiles at him softly over a forkful of huevos rancheros. “I’m glad you like it.” He takes a bite, chews for a while, and then swallows. He gets a thoughtful look on his face and then says, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

David’s heart-rate kicks up a notch, and he searches Patrick’s face to try and gauge what’s coming. Patrick looks a little nervous, but not mournful—not like he’s about to break up with David and ruin pancakes for him forever.

David narrows his eyes, “If it’s bad. Don’t tell me. I don’t need you ruining pancakes for me forever.”

Patrick shakes his head and grins. “No, no. Nothing bad. I just wanted to ask you something…and you can say no…”

“Oh, my god, what?” David snaps. “Out with it.”

Patrick lets out a huff. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go with me to the wedding next week.”

_The wedding. Brewer Cousin Wedding Number Eleven. The wedding that brought Patrick into Bloomfield’s. The wedding for which Patrick will wear his new shirt and suit. The wedding he was supposed to attend as a married man…married to a woman._

David realizes his mouth is hanging open, and he quickly shuts it. Then, opens it again. “The wedding? Like, the _wedding_ wedding? Like, Jacob and Emily’s wedding?” He’s seen the save-the-date on Patrick’s fridge. It’s right next to a picture of Patrick with his parents on a hike at Algonquin Provincial Park. Jacob and Emily are young, shiny-haired and photogenic. Their new basset hound puppy was part of the photoshoot.

“Yeah, the wedding.”

“So, you’re asking me to be your date…to the wedding…and meet like, your entire family?”

Patrick blushes. “Yeah.”

David suddenly doesn’t have an appetite. Well, he has an appetite, but it’s been brusquely pushed aside for a moment.

“Will, um, will Rachel be there?” David knows she’s still close with a lot of Patrick’s family. She was in the same class as Patrick’s cousin Maya in high school.

Patrick shakes his head and smiles ruefully. “No, I got to keep my family in the break-up.” 

David knows that he did _not_ get to keep the dog.

David searches his mind for other questions. “But like, why? I mean, is this you trying to jump into the deep end with your family? Just really lay on the gay factor? Because if you wanted to do that, there are other ways. Like, maybe I could buy you some rainbow socks…they’ll clash with the suit, but…”

“No, David, it’s not because of that.” Patrick leans over to take David’s hand in his. He has to maneuver around the various plates, cups, and condiments to do so, but it’s nice. Patrick’s eyes are warm. “It’s honestly just because I want to spend as much time with you as possible. The wedding is going to be an entire weekend of activities and I really just don’t want to spend two whole days off without you, when I could just as easily spend them _with_ you.”

“Oh,” David says, “well, that’s very nice.” Though, it does nothing to abate the pit in his stomach.

Patrick grazes his thumb over David’s knuckles.

“But,” David says, “I haven’t even met your parents, and you want me to meet your entire extended family in one night?”

Patrick grins and squeezes David’s hand. “Not my entire extended family. Just my dad’s side.”

“Oh, just your dad’s side,” David says, rolling his eyes. “So, what, like seventy-five people?”

Patrick hums. “More or less.”

“Okay, but what about your RSVP? It’s extremely rude to add a plus-one with only a week-and-a-half to go.”

Patrick coughs. “Oh, I, um, I already RSVP’d for you.”

“You _what_?!” David squawks. “When?!”

Patrick leans back in his chair, releasing David’s hand. “That’s not important.”

“Patrick!”

“Okay, um, the day after you came over and I made you the steak and mashed potatoes.”

David casts his mind back, categorizing. “That was—that was only our second date!”

Patrick gulps. “I know.”

“Oh, my god.” David doesn’t know how to feel about this. On the one hand, it is extremely nice to get more confirmation that Patrick might be as invested in this burgeoning relationship as David. On the other hand, it’s presumptuous and David should probably be mad at that. And on a third hand that is definitely the biggest—probably belonging to a giant or something—it still means that David is supposed to meet Patrick’s entire family all at once in less than two weeks and that is terrifying. He pictures Patrick’s mom—whose Facebook he has scrolled through more than once—her eyes like Patrick’s. Unlike David’s mom, she probably cooks well and has nice table manners, and has a healthy relationship with her sister.

“It’s okay, David. I know it’s a lot. You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to, cancelling a plus-one is easier than adding one,” Patrick says, softly. Though, his eyes betray his hope. “I just want you to know that you’re invited.”

David sighs, looking down at his pancakes, his appetite nudging to get back in place. “Okay, I’ll think about it,” he says, though he’s pretty sure he knows he’s going to end up saying yes. He, too, would rather spend two days with Patrick than without him, given the option.

“Okay,” Patrick says.

David’s pancakes lost all their warmth over the course of their conversation, and when he complains about it, Patrick uses it as part of his argument to pay for their “late brunch.” Since David’s defenses are down, he lets Patrick win, but he still doesn’t order the milkshake.

“Oh, my god, Patrick,” David says when he catches a glimpse of the receipt. He taps the tip line. “That is _not_ enough.”

“What?” Patrick says. “That’s fifteen percent. Fifteen percent is standard.”

“It’s the minimum,” David says.

“Okay, then I should do twenty?”

David nods. “Plus a little extra because we’ve been here for over an hour.”

“Okay,” Patrick shrugs. He doesn’t correct what he’s already written, but instead pulls out a few bills from his wallet and adds them to the tray with his card.

“Ooo, yes,” David says, “cash is even better.”

“Noted.”

* * *

He has to switch shifts with both Antonio and Amy, but in the end, he gets Friday and Saturday off so that he can accompany Patrick to both the wedding and (he shudders to think) the outdoor family activities on the lake the following day. They’re skipping the cocktail hour the night before because Patrick only requested one day off of work and he doesn’t want to drive for four hours after a full Thursday.

He and Patrick are at David’s, negotiating David’s limits of participation at the lake. He has so far agreed to sit on a beach chair, reading his book. He has said that he will maybe go in the water, depending on depth, temperature, and visibility. He set a firm line against kayaking, canoeing, and anything else involving oars. “Will Jacob and Emily even be there?” David asks.

Patrick shrugs. “Maybe, but probably not. They’ll have a lot to do.” He’s lounging on David’s bed while David flits around the room, trying to pack. He’s staying at Patrick’s Thursday night after his closing shift and then at the hotel the night of the wedding. He might stay at Patrick’s again when they come back. He considers his needs. He doesn’t have enough time to get a suit pressed. It’s just as well, he can hack it.

“Okay,” David says. “What am I gonna wear to this mountain wedding?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, “you’re the expert.”

“Yeah, while that is normally true, this is _your_ family we’re talking about.” David taps his fingers on the wall while he thinks. “Besides, my signature color is black and you’re wearing blue and I think that might clash.”

Patrick cocks an eyebrow.

“But I don’t want to wear blue, either,” David says. “That’s way too matchy-matchy.”

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, “I’ve never had to outfit coordinate with another guy before.”

That makes David feel warm, thinking about all the new little things that Patrick gets to experience. David wants it to go well for him.

David thinks about his options. He has a beautiful burgundy suit that would have gone well with the more saturated blue suit that Patrick didn’t buy. It’s just as well, he wouldn’t want to outshine Patrick and his floral shirt’s debut. His hair and eyebrows will take enough attention as it is.

“How many suits do you even have?” Patrick asks.

David rolls his eyes. “I work in menswear at a department store,” he says. “I get forty-percent off, including sales, and free tailoring. I have lots of suits.” He reaches into his closet and pulls out a dove gray Armani wool. Armani’s not his favorite, but it was on clearance, and he liked the lapels.

He holds it out to Patrick. “How about this one?”

Patrick’s eyes widen, then soften. “You look beautiful in gray.” He says it simply, matter-of-factly. David tries to remember when Patrick’s even seen him in gray and then remembers. It was their third date when he wore a dove gray cashmere sweater.

“Okay. It’s settled then.” Patrick’s not wearing a tie, so David can wear a thin grayish-blue necktie to coordinate. They’ll look good together.

Patrick slides off the side and the bed and moves toward David, wrapping his arms around David’s from the side, squeezing. He plants a kiss on David’s temple. “Thank you for agreeing to come with me,” he murmurs, then kisses his temple again. “Thank you _so_ much.”

“Okay,” David says. “Yep.”

Patrick keeps squeezing. “You’re the best, David.” The sound of Patrick’s voice tickles at the nape of David’s neck.

He lets Patrick squeeze the wind out of him for two more seconds before he says, “Okay. Would you let me go? I still have so much packing to do.”

Patrick gives David another squeeze and another kiss on the temple. “Mmm, thank you,” he says again.

“Okay.” David huffs again before Patrick lets go.

* * *

Despite post-drive naps and blow jobs, extra time spent on hairstyling, and the long walk from the parking lot, they still arrive at the mountain-side ceremony site distressingly early. David had planned to show up right before people started walking down the aisle, thereby postponing introductions. But no, Patrick once again proves he has an uncanny ability to gently nudge David into punctuality.

He sees them before they see him. Patrick’s parents stand together a few feet from the wedding spot, where rows of white chairs are set up. They’re just like he imagined—Patrick’s mother wears low, sensible heels and a ruched forest-green cocktail dress with three-quarter sleeves, and Patrick’s father looks tall and dapper in charcoal gray. David tugs at his cuffs and slows his pace. Patrick puts his hand low on David’s back. It’s only slightly comforting, but it does keep him moving forward.

The Brewers notice their approach and they both wave. Patrick waves back, so David tentatively joins in.

“Hi, mom,” Patrick says and leans down for a hug. David catches Patrick’s father’s eye over Patrick’s shoulder and they smile politely at one another. “Dad.” Patrick reaches up and after a couple of back pats, he moves back to David’s side. He puts a hand on David’s elbow and says, “This is David.”

David’s not sure if he should wave again, or offer to shake hands. He’s supposed to wait for them to offer their hands, right?

Mrs. Brewer saves him by putting her hand on his arm, and David didn’t even know that was an option. “David,” she says, “it’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Brewer.”

“David,” Patrick’s dad says, offering his hand. David takes it. “So glad you could make it.”

Patrick rubs David’s back while the four of them make small talk, about the drive, the hotel, how mildly difficult it was to find the ceremony venue. Mrs. Brewer does bat an eye when she realizes that Patrick and David are sharing a hotel room—but one eye bat is fine. David suddenly remembers that he’s the first man Patrick has ever introduced to his parents. Patrick ducks away momentarily to get David a glass of red from the drinks table and Marcy asks, “So, David, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m a Sales Rep at Bloomfield’s,” David says, and then smiles, remembering why that might interest Patrick’s mom. “It’s where I met Patrick.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he came in looking for a suit for the wedding.”

Her eyes flit over to where Patrick is standing, waiting for their drinks. “Well, it’s a beautiful suit,” she says.

“It’s an okay suit,” David corrects, and he hopes it doesn’t come out too snippy, “just really well-tailored.”

He breathes a sigh of relief when she giggles.

“He picked the shirt out himself,” David adds.

When Patrick comes back with their drinks, Mrs. Brewer makes a point to say, “That’s a very nice shirt, honey.”

Patrick grins. “Thanks, mom.”

“No tie,” says Patrick’s dad. It’s an observation, not a question.

Patrick, still grinning, cocks his head. “No tie,” he says, and David is still not used to the confidence that’s always wafting off of him.

“Very stylish,” Mrs. Brewer coos.

* * *

It’s a beautiful ceremony. They’re really in an amazing spot. The unremarkable walk from the parking lot did not prepare David for the breathtaking view. They sit on a mountain-side ridge, facing another mountain, dappled in gold and green and red. The couple stands on a platform, and the way it’s placed makes it almost look like they’re floating. The pictures are going to look unreal. 

After the ceremony, everyone sticks around, watching the couple take pictures on the wooden platform, then more with various combinations of family members, friends, and the bridal party. Patrick and his parents are called into a few.

Then, after the couple leaves to take pictures in other places, groups of people take turns taking pictures on the platform. David takes a few pictures of Patrick and his parents, then Mr. Brewer takes a few pictures of Patrick and David. Then, a different family member takes pictures of all four of them. When Patrick is called in to join in on a picture with a cluster of his cousins, he tugs David’s hand to join.

“Oh, no. It’s okay. I’m not family,” David says. He remembers when Tammy complained that her nephew brought his girlfriend to a family wedding, then when they broke up, how annoying it was that she was in all the pictures.

David feels a warm hand clasp his shoulder. When he looks over, it’s Patrick’s father. “If you’re here, you’re in the picture,” he says.

* * *

As the cocktail hour progresses, David is introduced to more of Patrick’s family members, and they only have to endure a few raised eyebrows. David tries to comfort Patrick through those, with soft touches to his bicep and squeezes to his shoulder.

After Patrick disappears for a few minutes to get David another drink and David ends up in a really uncomfortable exchange with a small child about streamers, David makes Patrick promise not to leave his side for the rest of the night.

“I’ll do my best,” Patrick promises, with only a shade of mirth.

“So, David, what do you do?” asks Patrick’s aunt. Her name is Beth-Anne. At least, David’s pretty sure that’s what she said. Whatever her name is, she’s the groom’s mother.

“Oh, I’m a Sales Rep at Bloomfield’s,” he says.

He’s lost count how many times he’s answered this question, and how many times Patrick has jumped in with, “That’s how we met.”

“Oh,” she says. “Well, what are you going to do next?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” she clears her throat, “what are you looking to do?”

There are about a million assumptions and implications behind the question, and David can hear all of them. “Oh,” he says, sucking in a breath, “I’m pretty happy where I am. I would eventually like to be a store manager, but I’m not there yet.

During the ceremony, the officiant said something about how Jacob is a lawyer and Emily is a dentist and how they’re going to help make the world better with their jobs. David could practically hear the _cha-ching_.

Then, Patrick’s aunt says the thing that takes the conversation from passably inoffensive to blatant. “Did you go to college?”

David does his best to suppress a grimace, but he’s not sure he succeeds. “Mhmm,” he says, nodding. “I have a Fashion Arts and Business diploma from Humber.”

He worked his ass off to get that diploma, and he worked his ass off to pay for it. And her condescending tone really makes him want to do something petulant. He has a sudden flash to that episode of _Friends_ in which Susan Sarandon keeps throwing her drinks in people’s faces.

“I didn’t know you studied fashion,” Patrick puts in. His eyes are soft, and he looks pleased. It helps. Patrick turns to his aunt. “David is incredibly talented, he styled me today.” He puffs out his chest, and it makes his aunt giggle.

“Well,” she says, turning back to David. He’s pretty sure she’s forgotten his name already. “If you want, I have a friend, well, she’s my coworker’s wife…she’s a photographer and I know she’s done work for a few of those, what are they? Online start-ups? Website retailers? I’m not exactly sure, but if you want me to set up a meeting, let me know.”

“Mmm,” David gives her a smile that he knows is tense, “yeah, thank you, I will definitely let you know.” He definitely will not, but it seems like she thinks it’s a fitting end to the conversation, and she leaves to go mingle with somebody else.

Patrick rubs David’s back. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you studied fashion,” Patrick says again.

David takes a sip of his wine. “Yes, well, we’ve only been dating for like a month. And we’ve only had like, nine dates, we just didn’t get to that conversation yet.” They talk about their jobs all the time, mainly because retail is such good fodder for stories, and Patrick is having trouble with his boss. They just hadn't gotten to the dreams and aspirations conversation.

“Ten,” Patrick says. “We have had ten dates, including this one.”

David hums. “Eleven, if you include that time we had dinner at your place and then I took you out for breakfast the next morning.”

Patrick blushes. “Definitely eleven.”

* * *

During the reception, they’re seated at a rectangular table with Patrick’s cousin Josh and his wife, and their other cousin Rory and her boyfriend. There’s another couple there, too, but David doesn’t catch their names or relationship to the bride and groom. Josh, it turns out, is Jewish on his dad’s side like David, so they get a few minutes of superficial conversation out of that.

They talk about work again. Josh is in IT, his wife Kayla works in some sort of chemistry lab, and Rory and her boyfriend are in grad school for International Relations. David says, “Sales Rep” again and Patrick again offers that they met at Bloomfield’s, but David is suddenly feeling like the story of their adorable meet-cute has gone a bit sour, and he muddles his way through the part where Patrick finds the shirt, and it lands flat, to a half-hearted reception from their audience.

Rory starts a conversation about the bride’s dress, and the chatter moves on. Patrick dips his head close to David’s. “Hey, you okay?”

He has a sinking feeling in his stomach, but it’s about literally nothing, so he says, “Yeah, of course.”

Patrick doesn’t look like he believes David. Part of David is relieved that Patrick can tell. Part of him wishes he couldn’t.

“C’mon,” Patrick says, tugging David by the hand.

“Where are we going?”

Patrick just shakes his head, “Come on.”

David sighs, puts his napkin on the table, and gets up to follow Patrick. They don’t go very far, just to the empty lobby area of the venue.

“David,” Patrick swings their arms between them. “What’s wrong?”

David sighs. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

David scoffs. “You are really underestimating how petty I can be.”

“Okay, I know you stayed up all night on a work night to finish the first season of _Killing Eve_ by yourself just because Stevie watched one episode without you. So, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

David grimaces, so Patrick squeezes his hand and pulls him closer.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong? I want to know.”

David purses his lips, not wanting to admit that he has a growing grudge against lawyers and engineers whose last names are hyphenated with “Brewer.”

“Is this about my Aunt Beth-Anne?” Patrick asks. “Because she can be pushy.”

“Mmm, pushy?”

“Yeah, with all that stuff about meeting her photographer friend. She always does that, tries to network. But she’s usually way off base.”

They have only been dating for four-and-a-half weeks. They are still having fun. It’s all talking about books and movies, and fucking for hours, and being giddy over texts. It’s way too early to be having this conversation. It’s way too early to be sitting with Patrick during wedding vows and posing for pictures on a mountaintop. It’s way too early to meet his parents and to make him run interference with family members.

David doesn’t want to move to the next phase yet. He doesn’t want their differences to already be an issue.

But Patrick is looking at him like that, open and pouting and sincere. And David wants this, wants to keep him for as long as he can. He thinks he likes Patrick more than he likes the butterflies and the novelty. He thinks he wants to get to a place where he has to interact with Patrick’s aunt Beth-Anne again—as unpleasant as she is.

“It’s not that,” David says, then catches himself. He has to backtrack and the discomfort comes out of him, unfortunately, via wiggling. He closes his eyes to try and collect himself. When he opens his eyes again, he talks to Patrick’s forehead, then his ear. “Well, I mean, yes, that was not the most pleasant conversation I’ve ever had. But it’s also, the tip you gave our waitress last week, and it’s the fact that another lawyer married another dentist, and the fact that you have a brand new condo in the fucking village.”

He kind of blurts it out, and he winces. Patrick does too, though David’s wince involves a lot more teeth and infinitely more eyebrow. Patrick’s eye basically just twitches.

“So, what I hear you saying is…” Patrick starts, then trails off. He clears his throat. “...What I hear you saying is that there is some discomfort pertaining to our different—” he pauses— “financial situations.”

“Yes,” David says, “and no. It’s not just the money or the jobs. It’s all of this.” He waves a hand for emphasis.

“Okay…”

“It’s just a little awkward when I am meeting a bunch of people with doctorates and medical degrees, while I have a two-year diploma from a public college.”

“David, I don’t care about that.”

“Okay, I know that you don’t want it to matter, but it kind of does.” David takes a deep breath. “I mean, we grew up differently. Your dad was—is a lawyer. Growing up, my dad was the district manager of Blockbuster. You are a financial analyst. I am a sales representative at a department store.”

Patrick sighs. “I know.”

“You live alone in a nice apartment and have a cleaning lady. I am roommates with Stevie and believe me, her cleaning skills are about as far away from ‘professional’ as can be.”

David half-expects Patrick to slink away, or for his shoulders to slump in defeat. Instead, he’s just looking at David thoughtfully. Then, he moves forward and brings his arms around David’s waist.

“You never let me pay for dinner,” Patrick says, “because you don’t want to feel like you can’t take care of yourself. You don’t want to take advantage.”

Patrick’s arms are warm and strong, and David wants to sink into his embrace. He has to stop himself from doing so. “I already stay over at your place so much, and eat your food, and take long showers with your nice water pressure.”

“I like it when you stay at my place,” Patrick says. “You’re not taking advantage.”

David sighs. “Look, I know that it’s just how we are. I know we come from different backgrounds. I know neither of us can help it.”

Patrick purses his lips, and his brow is furrowed. “David, I think…I think there’s a part of me that really likes the idea of taking care of you.”

David’s breath hitches in his throat. He’s not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it’s kind of romantic. On the other hand, he wants to crawl out of his skin.

Patrick continues. “But I don’t—I know that’s probably not a great impulse. It’s probably harmful in some way. It makes it sound like, I don’t know, like I don’t want you to be your own person or something. And that’s not true. All I want is for you to be your own person. And for me to be my own person. And to be our own people, you know, together.”

David does sag against him then. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck and presses a kiss to Patrick’s lips. He earned it.

“Can I ask you a question?” asks Patrick.

“Mmm.”

“Is your main career goal to be a store manager?”

“What if I said that, yes, it is?”

Patrick cocks his head and looks straight into David’s eyes. “I guess I would say that it’s good to know, and I would want to know what you needed from me.”

David smiles and kisses his cheek. It’s soft and warm and there are a few barbs on the tip of his tongue about the sparseness of the stubble there.

Then, he offers his own question. “Do you want to be a financial analyst at Acumen forever?”

Patrick chuckles. “Uh, no. I don’t think so.”

“Do you think that’s where you’ll be for the foreseeable future?”

Patrick sighs and his fingers start rubbing circles on David’s lower back. “Yeah.”

“Do you have other dreams?”

Patrick smiles. “I think you can guess that I do.” David can. He doesn’t know all the details, but Patrick plays guitar, and is making his way through a queer reading list, and plays baseball with a rec league. All of those could lead to something. Plus, the way he looks at David, with a spark of possibility in his eye—David can tell Patrick is a man with hope for the future. He’s motivated by something intrinsic and powerful, something deep. He’s fighting for something, even if that something doesn’t have a shape to it yet.

David knows this because it’s a reflection of something inside of himself.

“I have other dreams, too,” David says, and it makes Patrick smile. “But it’s also true that I am a sales representative-slash-personal stylist at Bloomfield’s. And I like my job. I’m good at what I do. I’m proud of it. I will be there for the foreseeable future. I _might_ go for an assistant manager position somewhere _if_ the circumstances are worth it.”

Patrick nods.

“It’s also possible that I might never do anything else. I may never want to do anything else. Will you be okay with that?”

Patrick grins.

David rolls his eyes, because, despite the warning tone of the question, Patrick is a sucker for future tense. “Patrick, I’m serious. What if I’m a sales rep forever?”

Patrick readjusts their stance, so his arms wrap tighter around David. “Well, I guess we’re just going to have to keep talking, and keep working on it, and keep supporting each other.”

That sounds good. That sounds like acceptance. David thinks he might even believe it.

“I have another question,” Patrick says.

“Okay.”

“Do you ever feel like you want to take care of me?”

David purses his lips. “Um. Yes.”

“Okay, then what if we start there? That we both have a desire to take care of each other, and that maybe that’s a good thing. And everything else, we’ll just keep talking about it.” Patrick reaches up and brushes his thumb against the ridge next to David’s eyebrow. “I want to keep talking to you. About everything.”

“Well, that’s very nice,” David says. “You’re very nice.”

“Mmm,” Patrick says, “I could be even nicer,” and then leans up to kiss David’s jaw.

“Okay, that’s not allowed.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because we are literally surrounded by your very polite family members and I do not need to add more awkwardness on top of this already very awkward night.”

“Oh, they’re not that polite,” Patrick says.

“You’re right. I’m giving them too much credit. They did raise you, after all.”

That makes Patrick laugh. “Oh, I can’t even argue with that. I’m pretty sure that inviting the guy I’m dating to a family wedding after only three weeks of knowing each other goes against at least one rule of etiquette.”

“Oh, definitely more than one.”

Patrick kisses David’s jaw again. “I got all dressed up for you. Does that make up for it?”

“Technically, I dressed _you_ up.”

“Well, that’s good, because it means it’s definitely working for you, then.”

David has to take in a deep breath to keep his body in check. “Okay, you know it is.”

“And you got all dressed up for me,” Patrick says, and it’s not tinged with teasing or sarcasm. It’s sincere. Which makes it terrible. “You got all dressed up for me so that I didn’t have to go alone to the first big family event after I came out. You wore gray, which is not your signature color, just so we wouldn’t clash. And you wore a blue tie so that we would match.”

David backs away from Patrick because if he keeps breathing all this earnest air coming out of Patrick’s mouth, he might combust. “Okay. Okay. You are making it very difficult for me to behave like a normal person. Which I very much need to do if we’re going back in there.”

“But I don’t want you to behave like a normal person,” Patrick says. “I want you to behave like the special, good person you are.”

“Okay, well, then we’re just going to have to leave. Go back to the hotel, and pretend we were never here.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Patrick says, and then he’s tugging on David’s hand. “It’s my coming out party, and I haven’t even danced with my escort yet.”

“Ew! You did _not_ just call me your _escort_. That is disgusting.”

* * *

They do go back to the hotel eventually. After a lot of eating, dancing, and sweating. David thinks that Patrick’s favorite moment was when he dipped David during “Dancing Queen” only for David to turn around and dip Patrick even more gracefully, punctuated by a truly cinematic kiss. David’s favorite moment was probably when Patrick gave him his slice of cake, and then agreed that they could duck out a little early.

“Uuuugh,” Patrick groans, falling onto the bed.

“Oh, god. No. Get off the duvet. They hardly ever wash those things,” David says, and then pushes Patrick so he slides off the bed onto the floor, tie flipping over his shoulder.

David ignores him, and pulls the duvet off the bed with his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m so tired,” Patrick says. “Weddings are very tiring.”

“You are also very sweaty,” David says. “Am I getting in the shower first or are you?”

“I better get in the shower first,” Patrick says. “If you go first I’m going to fall asleep and then you’ll have to sleep with smelly Patrick.”

“Uh. No. Smelly Patrick would have to sleep on the floor.”

“Or in the tub.” Patrick huffs and then stands. He tugs at the knot in his tie. “You should take a shower first. I will sit in this chair and therefore will be much easier to wake up.” He pulls out his tie and shakes off his jacket. He plops into the armchair and leans his head back. A third button on his shirt comes undone of its own accord.

When David emerges from the steamy bathroom, Patrick is indeed asleep. So, David gets to wake him up with neck nuzzling. “Your turn,” he murmurs.

Patrick awakes with a cute grunt. When he orients himself, he sighs and says, “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep with smelly Patrick? He has a very alluring musk.”

David hums and leans into Patrick’s neck breath in. It’s currently his favorite scent, there’s no denying it. But Patrick’s skin is also sticky with sweat and his breath will reek if he doesn’t go take care of that immediately.

“Nope,” he says, “into the shower.”

Patrick harrumphs, but gets up anyway.

When he returns, all fresh and clean, he looks more alert.

“What are you looking at?” Patrick asks. David is on his phone.

“Oh, some pictures from tonight.”

“Let me see.”

David shows him. In his camera roll, there are the formal shots from the wedding spot, a few pictures of the place setting and the food, a picture David took of Patrick from a distance while he walked toward the reception venue. Then, he shows Patrick some of the pictures on Instagram that he’s tagged in, and then Patrick takes his phone out and starts tapping.

David’s phone buzzes, and when he looks down, he sees that Patrick has tagged him in those posts.

“We look really good together,” Patrick says.

“I know,” David says. “I’m a professional.”

Patrick smiles and leans down to kiss David’s forehead. “It’s not just that.”

“Is it the way the contrast with my Mediterranean complexion makes your translucent skin really pop?”

Patrick laughs, and then pokes David in the side, making him squirm.

“No, that’s an afterglow. You know, because of all the great sex I’ve been having.”

David has to bite his lip to keep his grin from getting too wide.

“I might know something about that.”

Patrick’s smile softens. “I think it’s also because I’m stupidly happy,” he says.

David leans in and puts his face on Patrick’s bare chest. His words muffle into Patrick’s skin. “I might know something about that, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [vivianblakesunrisebay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianblakesunrisebay/pseuds/vivianblakesunrisebay) for the beta, for encouraging this sequel in the first place, and for helping me brainstorm.
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated.


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